Distortion of the Truth
by this kills the man
Summary: Join Sonic and Shadow in this thrilling tale of a history gone sour, a friendship tested, and morals questioned by the very distortion of truth. Also, assassins and tragic backstories. Cool, right? [collaboration with tumblr user orange-icebreaker; originally posted on ao3 2/17/15.] on indefinite hiatus
1. Chapter 1

If Mondays had a face, Shadow mused, he would stab it with a butter knife. Well, if he could actually reach the face and not cower under its tall, strangely human persona. Or would he be the person to loom over the other's quaking form? He sighed; that would be highly unlikely.

Instead, the hedgehog was greeted with paperwork. Mountains of it. Every week. Only his sense of duty kept him from quitting this utter piece-of-shit profession, flipping his partner off on the way out, and becoming an angsty poet or some other pretentious bullshit that actually _paid well_.

Then again... The utter lack of cash lining his pockets could also be attributed to his abysmal partner. Sonic was by no means cut out to be an assassin — he was too gentle to kill innocents, too selfless to accept money from jobs where he would down corrupt politicians or domestic abusers, and too messy to be trusted with even a single scrap of paperwork.

Hence, Shadow's current predicament remained a fact that had to be dealt with whether he liked it or not.

His partner snoozed lazily on the couch — idiotic, considering the hedgehog's proximity to his bedroom — cuddling a Batman plushie and ignoring his glaring responsibilities with every rise and fall of his chest. Again. As per usual, a coffee stain branched accusationally from beneath the mug nearby his outstretched fingers, to Shadow's chagrin. How this utter brat remained the most hunted and feared killer on the continent remained a fucking mystery to him, as the bundle of blue could barely even take care of their chao, Jojo, in a competent manner. Hell, if the faker hadn't partnered with Shadow two years ago he'd likely be dead. Or jailed. Or both.

"..Chil..i... dogs," Murmured the deadly assassin, drool dangling from the corner of his mouth. Demanding food even in the depths of his slumber? What an ass. Shadow never caught a break with this nuthead.

Both were roused from their respective activities of brooding and rest, however, by the two brisk knocks reverberating about the house with an earthquake's force. Sonic shot up like lightning, on his feet and at the front entrance before Shadow could even blink. The ebony hedgehog sighed; _Well, at least that blue idiot has decent reflexes._ As door swung open, Shadow quickly traded his incriminating list of targets for the month — courtesy of their tie, code-named "Tails" — for some boring-looking paperwork from RobotniCorp. No sane cop checked those twice, and as such it remained the best cover he could ever hope for.

"Hi there!" Sonic cooed from the doorway. Two officers hobbled past him with remarkable speed, eyes scouring their surroundings like lasers. One was a short, stocky human with a bright red beard and a penchant for supplying for both the duo's scowling, while his partner was a red-and-yellow armadillo that had taken to beaming at them both.

"Officers Mighty and Otatop, nice to meet you!" The smiling armadillo cheered. "Pardon the intrusion, but we have reason to believe the Blue Blur could be operating out of this very building!"

The cop next to him gave a morose cough, unimpressed with his co-worker's enthusiasm.

Immediately, Sonic clapped an alarmed hand over his mouth. "Here?" He squeaked, shock palpable and entirely fake. "But — but who?"

"We're not sure," Rumbled the human from the throes of his beard. Shadow felt the man's stare bounce off of his faux-concern like a tennis ball. "All we've gotten are anonymous tips indicating their relative location. Nothing solid, but if there's anything even remotely suspicious that you've seen..."

"Of course." Nodding enthusiastically, Sonic waved them into chairs with varying amounts of energy emitting from the two in response. If the speedster put as much enthusiasm into his actual _job_ as he did playing the fool, Shadow mused, then maybe they could purchase more of the chili dogs that the former treasured so dearly. Perhaps informing him of this would finally incite the blue hedgehog to take things seriously, but... oh, who was he kidding, he probably wouldn't.

Whipping a rather well-loved police notepad out of seemingly nowhere, the armadillo cleared his throat. "So — how long have you lived in this apartment complex?"

Sonic tapped his cheek in a thoughtful gesture. "I think... Two years? Wow! It seems like it's been such a long time—" Turning, the green-eyed bastard sent Shadow an innocent smile. "Doesn't it, _honey_?"

Oh, so they were going with _that_ script, were they? "No matter how much time passes, you remain a blessing, _beloved,_ " He replied, tone saccharine.

Otatop scoffed, as was his chosen approach to any and all situations. Mighty, however, looked absolutely delighted. "So," He squealed, "How long have you been together?"

"That hardly seems like part of the _investigation_ , officer," Grumped the human. His beard seemed to flourish from his flabby chin like a flowing sea of his internalized rage.

Sonic just smiled serenely. "It's alright. It's been three and a half years, now —" Bullshit, of course, "— But enough about us. We need to help find the Blue Blur! Who knows which residents might be his next targets if we don't act quick." This was also bullshit, as innocents never found residency under the hedgehog's radar.

Mighty nodded. "Right. Has there been any suspicious activity from your neighbors as of late?"

After a beat of silence, Shadow piped up for the first time since his brief reply to his _beloved_. "Well, there's this one silver hedgehog that's an ass. Keeps telling me 'it's no use' while waving a candle in my face. He's always rocking back and forth in a state of hysteria, as though—"

"Dear!" Scolded Sonic. "Quit picking on Silver. He's just got PTSD, you know that." There was genuine annoyance in those bright green eyes now, and the lack of falsehood was a momentary relief.

Before anyone else could contribute to the catastrophe of an interrogation, Otatop let loose a rowdy laugh, surprising all three in the room.

Shadow also felt his mask slip; this man actually _experienced joy_. He couldn't believe it.

"Apologies, beloved," Shadow amended gently, giving Sonic what he hoped was a soft, affectionate gaze. "I'd never upset you if I knew I could avoid it." He topped off his performance with a regal nod of his head, requesting both forgiveness and later recognition for the brilliance of his acting.

Sonic still looked aggravated—mainly because Shadow got all the good lines—but turned back to Mighty and Otatop nonetheless. "We haven't seen anything too unusual," The blue hedgehog explained, "But if you pay a visit to room 103... Use the buzzer, don't knock."

"Right!" Agreed the cheerful cop. "Okay. So, last question: have you seen any suspicious characters in or around the building?"

They both shook their heads in an eerie unison, earning a baffled gape from the bearded cop. It was still a mystery to Shadow how they managed to pull stunts like that on the fly, but the magic of improvisation works wonders, he supposed.

"Thank you both very much!" Mighty hopped to his feet, giving a little half-bow; beside him, Otatop rose with a vaguely grateful grunt.

"Oh, our pleasure!" Sonic fussed. "If you have any more questions, feel free to call on us again."

WIth a fair bit more smiling and nodding — begrudgingly on the darker hedgehog's part — the cops were ushered from the room in a flare of (mostly) positive farewells. As soon as the door creaked shut, Shadow's fake smile dropped like an anvil off a cliff.

"Can I go to sleep now?" Sonic murmured hopefully to his companion, eyes suddenly heavy with exhaustion.

"Yes, yes." Shadow grumbled. "You nap while I manage invoices. Again."

Sarcasm flying by his head, Sonic beamed, reclaimed his plushie, and collapsed dramatically back onto the couch.

Shadow was developing a migraine. In record time, he might add.

Fucking. Mondays.


	2. Chapter 2

**Quick note: let me know if the rating needs to go up for anything. Kinda rusty w/ ffn at the moment.**

 **Anonymous reviews**

 **L: Thanks! Well I hope this continues to live up to your expectations lmao**

* * *

"Got a new job for you!" Tails announced, static making his voice crackle. "His name is Nathaniel Lunatique."

" _Lunatic_?" choked out a baffled Sonic. "Like, with a k? You can't be serious." He swung the landline's ancient cord about with his finger.

A sigh warbled from the opposite end of the phone. "For one, Lunatic is spelled with a c," Tails deadpanned, obviously on the edge of both his seat and his last nerve. "Second, his name isn't even spelled with a c; it ends in _q-u-e_."

This time, it was the blue fellow's turn to huff in defeat. "Yeah, yeah. Just fax Shadow what the client sent you and we'll check him out."

Noises vaguely resembling a wailing pigeon burst from the phone, sending the hedgehog off of his perch on the armrest and tumbling down onto the uneven carpet. The assassin growled low in his throat.

"What the _hell_ was _that_ for?!" squawked Sonic, his words submerged in an ocean of cheap plush.

Nervous laughter bubbled across the transmission. "That was Knuckles. I think his controller broke again while playing Mario Kart."

 _He's that stressed?_ The assassin mused. The echidna's strength only flared under duress. Sonic found the uptick of these incidents understandable, given his friend's current situation; guarding the Master Emerald didn't spell relaxation when thirty _trillion_ different government organizations continually plucked the rock away from safety. That's a hard burden to bear alone.

Maybe a functional controller or two fell within reasonable request when sore for company on a floating rock.

(Well, he _had_ company, but Tails didn't really count.)

"...Okay, I'll let you deal with that," the assassin responded with a hint of sympathy. After a quick exchange of goodbyes and a stern _don't-leave-the-phone-cable-in-the-oven-again_ from the two tailed fox, the hedgehog gently pressed his thumb into the red phone icon. A collection of low beeps signaled the transmission's end.

In succession, he swiveled his head in the direction of the office and gave a mighty cry of _"_ _Shadow, go check the fax machine, we have a new target!"_

Various bangs and crashes shot back from the desk-adorned corner in reply. Sonic had to suppress a grin, only for said grin to blossom into voracious cackling as colorful expletives sprouted from the dark hedgehog's direction.

"Why the _fuck_ can't you speak without busting my goddamn eardrums?!" demanded Shadow, storming over to the sprawling blue draped across the carpet.

"You love me, shut up." The speedster replied, smiling innocently.

Sonic found himself with a face full of angry pillow in the seconds following his innocuous statement, thrown by a fuming ultimate lifeform as he dashed over to the fax machine. The blue pile of quills simply lay there with the fabric muffling his snickers.

This lasted for about a good ten seconds before Sonic noticed a lack noise from his companion.

"...Shadow?" he murmured, more to himself than to his companion. Carefully plucking the pillow from his face, the blue speedster rolled onto his knees and stumbled his way upright. One glance to his left and his eyes met the image of a deathly still Shadow, paper clutched to his chest for dear life. In no way did the hog's stature even _closely_ resemble that of the unfazed deadpan his friend projected by default.

Sonic padded over to the hedgehog with worry pinching his features. His concern blossomed further when he reached his friend without even a single glare in response, an event so unusual that the assassin began to wonder if he was still asleep.

"Um..." Sonic wavered, air tight in his chest. The foreboding atmosphere almost suffocated him.

As though snapped out of a trance, Shadow coughed into his elbow, paper hanging idly from his hand. He then spun towards the blue speedster with a practiced grace. Curtains of disdain draped across his irises.

The irritation burrowed into the ebony hedgehog's expression pulled relief out of Sonic in the form of a sigh.

"I'll be back in a few hours," Shadow barked, taking care to shove an extra copy of the fax into the chest of his friend before stalking towards the door. With a jolt of the knob, the wood swung open with ease and in seconds Shadow the Hedgehog vanished into thin air, only a plume of dust signaling he was ever present in the first place.

Sonic gaped at where his partner in crime once stood. What the _hell_ just happened?

Deciding to investigate the jumble of papers still pressed against his abdomen, the assassin plucked the accursed parchment from his fur and scanned its surface with vigor. Boy, if the contents bothered someone like _Shadow_ of all people, it should be a sight to behol—

 _Nathaniel Lunatique, Male, DOB:_

"Huh?" Frowning, Sonic scanned the lower areas of the fax. Their client redacted a good chunk of information. That's... going to be an issue.

 _Birthplace: Station Square, Old Eggpire_

 _Relations  
-Parent(s): _  
_-Sibling(s): n/a  
-Spouse(s): Jane Lunatique (née __), DOB: 1/26/2215  
-Child(ren):_ _Lunatique, DOB: 9/3/2245  
-Cousin(s):..._

The list continued on for a while after that. Really, how many cousins did a guy need? Sonic skimmed over to the bottom in hopes of finding _something_ uncensored. Maybe he'd even find whatever freaked out Grump McEdge.

 _Former Employers:_

 _-MacDonnell's  
-_  
 _-Mighty Martin's Curtain Emporium_

Of course, the most obvious conclusion came to mind.

"... What does Shads have against fast food joints?"

—

Finding Lunatique was the easier part of the job. A prominent politician, he drew fame from his calm demeanor and cleverly devised taxation policies meant to benefit his personal shower curtain manufacturer. Any self respecting individual memorized his office address the moment they learned his name. However, his actual financial trail left much to be desired. His first and only savings account being opened at fifty years of age and checkings free of any history of withdrawals or deposits—in other words, barely used at all—meant that monetary dirt didn't even _exist._

 _Why_ were they hunting this guy? Shadow didn't care. He just wanted to book it, slam dunk that goddamn fax in the shredder, and down at least five hearty glasses of milk. Mm, milk. That's the _shit_.

Oh, and speaking of shit:

 _Bzzt-!_ "Shads! You got any info yet?"

Ohlordhavemercy why did he have to _shout_ into the wrist communicator?

The hedgehog yanked the wristwear towards his mouth and hissed, "What part of 'sneaking around a locked politician's office without being noticed' do you not understand?"

"Aw, geez, sorry. Just wanted to know if we have, y'know, an actual motive here. Some guy's _resume_ doesn't tell us much," replied the assassin. Shadow groaned.

"I'm _working_ on it. Shut up for a moment. Go take a nap or something."

"Sounds great!" _Bzzt._

The blue dunce either missed the jab or ignored it. Great. Shadow returned his attention to the desk of papers, now sporting a migraine the size of Dr. Finitevus's almighty ego. The hedgehog _knew_ why this man wiped his financial trial clean, sure, but like hell would he admit it if it meant acknowledging that second employer on the fax.

Yes, the sender made sure to redact that item. It's not as though he recognized the target's name or anything. Nope.

Realizing rather belatedly that he knew more information about the man than anything a pitiful investigation would unearth, Shadow resigned himself to another thirty minutes of "searching" before he'd head back and declare the transcript null; no motive, no information and, most important of all, no reason to confirm a contract with the client. Nathaniel Lunatique, go fuck yourself.

The ultimate lifeform plopped down into the office chair with little more than a _flumph_ against the cushion. Stupid humans and their stupid human sized furniture. He dwarfed in comparison to the damn things.

His contempt distracted him so much that he didn't notice the barrel pressed against his temple—that is, until a voice pierced the silence.

"Game over, fuckmunch."


End file.
